


A Fool's Adventure

by Ariannasheirwood



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: LOTR, Lord of the Rings, Minor Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:04:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariannasheirwood/pseuds/Ariannasheirwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nicking fireworks and carrots, hobbition's youngest troublemakers Jean Kirstein and Marco Bodt find themselves in the middle of an adventure bigger than either one of them expected, traveling far from home with strange tall companions and a stranger key hanging off of their fellow hobbit Eren's neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not So Quiet Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> “He’s always followed me everywhere I went since before we were tweens. I would get him into the worst sort of trouble but I was always there to get him out. Now he’s gone.”  
> -Merry Brandybuck

Hobbits have never been ones for adventure. They’re content with their day to day lives of eating and smoking good pipe-weed. Staying home and relaxing has been the most respected profession besides ale brewing and farming the best of all foods grown. This is the mold of all hobbits- calm and respectable, never going on adventures and staying home where one belongs. A few however have broken this unspoken law, causing trouble in the Shire.

 

* * *

 

 

“No, the big one!” Jean grinned, pointing to a large, brightly wrapped stick in the midst of a pile of similar colored packages inside the back of a large wooden cart. The package was special, that much he could tell. The others were plain- brightly packaged with pretty little ribbons, but plain. This one was taller than he would ever grow and decorated with a head straight out of those old tales Grisha Jaeger, the elderly hobbit whose birthday was currently being celebrated, would tell when you gave him the chance- a titan, fearsome creatures taller than the sky with huge eyes, stretched smiles, and no clothes, that ate anything that moved.

A black shock of hair popped up from from the mess paired with a large, floppy grin as a freckled hobbit named Marco grabbed the firework big enough to satisfy Jean’s need for mischief. “Got it!” he chirped, wading through the pile quickly. Despite being raised by quiet parents, Marco seemed to have a knack for sneaking around that came quite handy. There was one time... well, that story could be saved for later.

Scrambling into a tent, the two friends soon had the explosive lit but soon found there was a serious problem- the firework wouldn't stand. It swayed dangerously, spitting sparks and hissing like a mad cat that had just gotten its tail stepped on or like some water that landed too close to the fire. “You idiot!” Jean hissed, shoving the firework at Marco not wanting to get burned and suddenly realizing how bad of an idea it had been to steal and light a firework without any knowledge whatsoever to do with one besides what he had seen. “You’re supposed to stick it in the ground!”

“It is in the ground,” Marco yelped and pushed the grotesque painted face back towards Jean.

He hissed, sending the stolen firework away from him, praying it would end up being a dud so that the whole mess would just be looked back upon and laughed at over a nice hot cup of tea or while smoking a strong pipe. “Outside.” The fuse was getting dangerously small, Jean noted with rising panic.

Marco’s eyes were wide with fear, something Jean was very used to by now. “It was your idea!”

Suddenly, the stick was gone and Jean found himself on his back watching the titan’s head shoot up into the air and stream colorful sparks into the air as it climbed higher and higher into the dark sky painting a shining streak of gold across the black night. He had been right- it was a special one. The diamonds caught fire mid air then formed a tall, gruesome giant with a smile too large and too cold, eyes wide and hungry as it bent down as if to snatch someone from the ground. The fire titan then stood up, head swiveling like something caught its attention, then screamed silently, mouth opening far too wide to be comfortable, and ran into the lake where it exploded with a resounding bang Jean could feel through through the ground, echoing in his bones and the empty spaces in his ribs.

Already feeling a ridiculous grin spreading across his face, Marco nodded and stood up, watching the remnants of the titan appreciatively. “That was good.”

Jean nodded and rubbed the soot out of his two toned hair, starting to back up even before he spoke forgetting completely the utter panic he had felt seconds earlier.  “Let’s get another one.”

Before they could however, both cried out in pain as someone grabbed their ears, pulling their heads backwards so they could see the face of their attacker. A messy, seemingly always smoking or on fire, ponytail paired with a stern, framed glare both boys were all too familiar with. “Jean Kirstein and Marco Bott,” grumbled Hange, the bespectacled owner of the firework they had 'borrowed' and set off. “I should have known.”

Shoving them forward with her staff, Hange soon had the two hobbits scrubbing the dirty plates of the other party-goers, elbows deep in filthy bubbles and remnants of the rich food they still hadn’t gotten to try. Chocolate puddings, rich hams, cookies of every kind, carrots, breads, and so much more. She leaned forward in her small wicker chair, sized for the hobbits who were half her size, and pulled out a long pipe and a small bag. Dumping the contents of the bag into her pipe and lighting it, Hange smoked with a large, floppy grin on her weathered face. It was said in the olden days when titans had been running rampant, Hange the then Red wizard, would run straight at the giant creatures giggling and talking as if they could respond.

Jean glared at the Grey wizard but knew better than to challenge Hange. Doing dishes wasn’t the worse a wizard could do but it did seem to be one of her favorite punishments for the pair.

“Do you think we could do something like this again?” Marco pipped up still somehow cheerful. “Like next year? Hange always outdoes the year before and so they’ll be bigger and better ones next time. Maybe there'll be another titan one. I did like this year's- much better than the butterfly shower although that was pretty.”

A slow, wicked grin grew on Jean's face before he could stop it. “Wanna go to the fields tomorrow? You can pick which one this time.”

That was how it always had been between the two of them, getting into trouble together and serving the consequences together. They were inseparable, Jean and Marco. Jean could barely remember a time without Marco- it was much less exciting. Sitting alone in his room drawing while his mother burned tea and grew pretty weeds instead of berries that could be nabbed and eaten. That wasn't how Jean wanted to be remembered.

Setting down a plate on the table for Marco to dry, Jean watched the younger hobbit chatter away with the best gardener of the Shire- a shy hobbit with strange melon like hair named Armin Alert. Bright, always smiling, and the most kind person Jean had ever seen, Marco would’ve been the town angel if he hadn’t spent so much time with Jean. He had a way of making everyone smile and feel comfortable, unlike Jean. He had a nasty habit of annoying anyone who looked at him.

The crowd of people suddenly got quiet, pulling Jean out of his thoughts and back into the present. An old hobbit jumped nimbly up on a table, laughing and waving at the crowd of family and friends. “My dear Jaegers and Wagners, Botts and Kirsteins, Alerts, and Barts. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday.”

People cheered and Marco raised a mug up to the air crying out, Happy Birthday Grisha!

Grisha Jaeger chuckled, hand reaching for the pocket of his embroidered vest. “Hundred and eleven is quite a long time to live among such fine hobbits but somehow seems much too short. Many of you I don’t know as much as I would like and I like many of you less than you should be.” He paused, firelight dancing on the glass of his round glasses perched on his lumped nose.

Jean scowled, running his dripping hand through his hair and repeating the sentence quietly to himself. There was too many shorts and longs and things in that sentence, he didn't quite understand the speech. Normally speeches were along the line of 'thanks for coming, eat' and those were speeches Jean enjoyed and could actually grasp. It wasn't that he was stupid, just if there were too many words and soon he'd start losing attention and start flicking dirty suds at Marco just to watch the hobbit's face turn to surprise, disgust, then annoyance and acceptance.

“I have things to do,” Grisha finally spoke softly, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it behind his back. “I’ve been waiting for something that’ll never come. I am sorry to inform you all This is the End. I’m leaving.” The old man’s eyes settled on a spot in the crowd and he smiled gently. “Goodbye.”

Grisha Jaeger vanished in a cloud of smoke, as simple as that. Jean blinked, coughing as the clouds cleared showing the empty spot where the old man had been standing. It was magic but it wasn’t like the fireworks. There was no fizzy, bubbly feeling left behind, just confusion. Just like the speech. Grisha always had a way of turning ordinary things like birthday parties into strange, new, baffling experiences that others like Jean didn't really care for.

“Come on!” Marco nudged Jean, pointing to the forgotten platters of puddings, cakes, fruits, rolls, and sweets. “Now’s our chance, while everyone’s distracted.”

Grabbing entire trays at a time, the two of them ran off into the darkness giggling when they heard the furious and confused shouts of partygoers now without their treats. “Marco, Marco, Marco, you devil. Taking all the food from the proud and respectable people going to an old man’s birthday party,” Jean tisked, ducking into a corn field. Grabbing a jelly filled pastry from one of the platters stacked in his arms, and raising the slightly squashed sweet like a goblet, he smirked. “I’ve really done a number.”

Marco snorted, shoving a handful of goodies into his mouth, crumbs falling down his chin and onto his chest. As sweet and caring as he was, his manners was something else entirely. Jean had seen him pick apart a hen with his fingers, suck the meat right off the bones, then pick his teeth with those bones without even flinching or wondering what someone might think if they saw him. Marco was unashamed of his eating habits and fully aware that while others were disgusted, they wouldn't eat the food sitting in front of them and he used this to his advantage. “The best food all to ourselves and the most fun? I think you’ve done me some good,” he said with his mouth still full. Frowning, he stared at the crumbs in his scarf, brushing at them furiously unintentionally leaving the food open for Jean's quick hands.

Snarfing what he could down as quickly as hobbitly possible, Jean nodded pushing some stalks aside so he could sit down. The ground was uneven, hard, and quite cold like the ground was alive aware of its two passengers and wanted them to be so uncomfortable that they left. Of course Jean couldn't let that happen. Wiggling his butt around, he made himself comfortable despite the ground's efforts. “Don’t want to be all respectably boring, now would we?”

Marco stopped slapping at his scarf and sighed, sitting down next to Jean. “Did you happen to grab some of that ale?” He burped, winced, and pulled out a rock out from under him then tossed it over his shoulder, cracking a stalk in the distance.Whoever's farm this was would be horrified and furious to find his precious field ruined in a small area- flattened and broken beyond any saving. Jean sniggered at the mental image making Marco's frown deepen. “What?”

“It’s just that you would’ve never done this before,” he waved his arm around in a wild gesture. “Stealing the goods, getting into trouble, running for a good long time, talking with your mouth full. You’re a changed hobbit.”

Rolling his big brown eyes, Marco grabbed some jelly pastries from one of Jean’s plates much to his dismay. “I’m guessing that’s a no on the ale then.”

He sighed, reaching over to grab some of Marco’s stolen goods only to have his hand painfully smacked away. “Fine. We’ll go to The Green Titan in the morning and drink them out of business with the rest of Hobbiton. Now let me take one of those, you got one of mine.” He launched himself forward, arms extended to nab at least one of of the strawberries Marco had taken.

“No!” Marco laughed, pushing Jean’s face away and falling back into the corn, snapping more stalks with the hobbits combined weight.They rolled around laughing and squealing as limbs collided with limbs, sides were pinched, and necks were tickled without mercy. By the time the two boys were done wrestling, over half of the remaining food was ground into the dirt and inedible and Jean's face was already starting to ache.

"Look what you did," Marco exclaimed, rolling over and pointing to a pile of mashed berries underneath his body. "Now they're ruined!"

“Your fault,” Jean grumbled, rubbing his arm where Marco’s chin had brutally stabbed. Marco may have looked plush and cuddly, but he was very pointy when he wanted to be- the new bruises forming on Jean's pale skin was be proof enough. "You got some..." he trailed off, finger lazily pointed at the bigger hobbit's rear end.

“Great,” he moaned, rubbing at the multi-colored blotch on his bottom trying to get off some of the smear, only succeeding in spreading the mess. “You think this’ll stain?”

Jean shrugged, stood up, and bent his arm over his head, popping his shoulder loudly. “Why’d you sit on it on the first place?”

“You pushed me!” Marco pouted, folding his arms across his chest and huffing dramatically. His bottom lip jutted out and his big brown eyes squinted until they were just slits- tell tale signs that tears were on their way. Soon he'd start sniffling, lips pressing together angrily as he'd furiously rub at his traitors eyes. He'd always been an easy cryer whether he was angry, happy, or sad.

Sighing, Jean wiped his face with his hands and grumbled quietly to himself. He had in fact pushed the older hobbit onto his own pile of goods. Holding out his hand, he lifted Marco up to his feet not mentioning the tiny trails already clearing dirt on his friend's face. “Fine. How about I pay tomorrow? Would that make up for your pants?”

“I think so.”

 "Good," he sighed, tilting his head back as he walked slowly through the field, gold eyes tracing constellations in the twinkling darkness. Sniffling followed him and a couple of hiccups but he didn't say anything. He knew Marco was trying to be quiet and with a quick glance behind him, he saw he was looking up at the stars as well. At first it had bothered him how Marco had followed him everywhere, done everything he did, and even repeated what he said sometimes. It felt like mockery, childish and stinging but soon he couldn't go anywhere without wanting Marco to follow. Marco was always there and Jean loved it.

 

* * *

 

Jean regretted offering to pay for the drinks. He’d forgotten how much Marco could and would drink when he wasn’t the one paying. Sighing, he grabbed a mug for himself and sat down in the corner to nurse his increasingly fowl mood. Why had he offered to pay for it anyway, it wasn't like Marco couldn't pay for himself. It was that perfect little pout with those big brown eyes and Marco knew it. He could get Jean to do anything if he begged. It defiantly wasn't the tears either- Jean would never go that low.

“Come on Jean!” Marco bubbled, throwing himself on the table with a ridiculous smile on his freckled face. His eyes crinkled, folding freckles in half and hiding some altogether, messing with the patterns Jean had mapped out in his mind. “Old Bart is almost drunk enough to start up our song soon, you gotta sing with me.”

He scowled at him, gesturing to his barely touched cup. “I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that. Plus, I’m not in the mood. You’re drinking me out of Hobbiton, Marco. I’m not going to be able to-”

“I’ve gotten that all taken care of,” Marco waved airily, swaying slightly. “Eren’s paying.”

Jean’s head jerked back, eyes widening. Trying to not look suspicious, he swiveled around to see Grisha’s son laughing in the corner with his usual company of a quiet boy named Armin. “Is that so?” Jean asked slowly, raising the mug to his lips. Slamming the empty cup down on the wooden table, he grinned as the familiar buzz hummed quietly in the back of his head. “Let’s do this.”

The familiar tune started up as the hobbits began shouting an old drinking song. Jean didn’t care for the words, in fact, he really didn’t know them. He just knew the sounds which could’ve been words, but he shouted along with everyone else, arm hooked around Marco’s shoulder and jumping up and down to the beat. He never cared for the song, Jean just loved singing with Marco and watching his friend shine. He let go of his pride allowing the music to swallow him whole, rolling him around in a haze of low lights and loud voices, chest buzzing with emotions and the absolute ruckus he and everyone surrounding him was making.

Marco jumped on the table, pulling Jean along with him, and raised his mug singing the last line as loud as he could. “There’s a mug of beer inside this Bott!” The crowd roared with laughter and approval as Marco downed the entire mug in one go. He crowed, cheeks red and cheery, eyes bright and gleaming like there were stars trapped inside, like he had stared too long at the sky and forced the constellations to live forever inside those chocolate orbs.

Jean tripped off the table, tumbling to the floor and laughing all the way down. “One more round, Marco!”

Marco sat down on the floor next to him and handed him a glass, freckles standing out against the beer blush settling on his cheeks. “Only one more?” he grinned sloppily, hair falling into his eyes turning his usual brilliant beam into something that made Jean's insides twist.

He gulped down the fiery ale, burped into his sleeve, then pursed his lips. “You said Eren was paying?” Jean mumbled, wiping his mouth his the back of his hand. He was just drunk, that was all. Too much ale. The only way to counter this feeling of falling, falling backwards with no one to catch him, a lurch like he had tripped over his feet or swallowed his tongue- was to drink even more. Marco nodded. “Care for a drinking contest? Last one standing wins?”

“Not fair, I’ve had more than you already!”

Jean snorted, pulling himself onto a bench, signaling a nearby waitress. “We both know you hold your ale better than I do. It’s more fair now.”

Marco’s brow furrowed and his dark eyes flashed, sparking Jean's curiosity. “Alright. Want to make this a bit more interesting?”

Raising an eyebrow, Jean explained to the waitress what he wanted then turned back to Marco, trying and failing to look uninterested. Bets with Marco were always interesting like that one time he said Jean couldn't eat seven cabbages then kiss Eren. Jean hadn't won that one- he'd backed out once he heard Eren's name. There was no way he would ever kiss that boy. Or another time when they made a contest out of fishing and whoever had caught the least had to throw all their fish at little Armin. Marco had thrown them pathetically and hadn't even gotten any of them close but Eren had unfortunately seen and Armin himself wasn't that harmless either. There had been a lot of drinking that night too.

“How so? We’re both already going to get drunk enough to pass out.”

“You lose, you get to run into Wanger’s fields and steal as many carrots as you can while I tell Thomas you’re out in the field.”

Jean’s jaw dropped. Stealing from the Wanger’s fields was suicide especially after they had hit that field a couple times in the past few weeks. The boy who lived there was normally a calm kid but Marco and him had been pushing the guy's limit. He'd snap and those perfect carrots would be off limit permanently.

“Y-you’re kidding,” Jean finally stuttered, probably as white as a ghost, fingers wringing themselves with a nervous vengeance. “What happens if I win?”

Marco shifted as the waitress came back with the first round clearly uncomfortable about the consequences himself. “I go out in the field and you tell Thomas.” Tilting his head back, he gulped down the ale then slammed down the mug with a resounding bang. “And that’s never gonna happen,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “After all, you can’t hold your liquor.”  

  

* * *

 

Jean could've sworn he'd just had two after that but the skull shattering headache told him otherwise. Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up and shuffled into his kitchen, carefully opening and shutting cupboards as quietly as he could to heat up some water and aleroot- the only way hobbits were able to drink so much and not get sick or have lasting effects. Dwarves coming to talk to Grisha traded the precious root for stories or the ripest fruit. However, aleroot cooked tasted like an old leather shoe stewed in hog piss. Don't ask why he knew that particular taste. His mother had a strange way of looking for alternate medications.

Hissing to himself, Jean lumbered back over to the living room, hitting his feet on multiple corners till he was ready to scream, cry, or just give up and melt into a puddle of self pity in the middle of the floor in some random part of his house, and squinting against the harsh morning light. One glance out the window however told him it wasn't morning, it was midday. He'd slept longer than he'd thought. Eyebrows shooting into his hairline, Jean nearly tripped over the body on the floor, spilling some of the headache-killing liquid on the figure.

Marco snorted then moaned, grabbing his head in agony, eyes scrunching up so tight he was bound to make his headache much worse. Jean squatted down, pressing the mug into Marco's hand, forcibly curling the tanner fingers around the handle. "Here," he said softly as to not hurt his friend's head further. "Brace yourself."

He didn't. Marco's sputtered, face twisting in disgust but he was awake at least. "I forget how nasty this stuff is," he grunted, giving Jean back the drink.

Jean nodded, tilting his head back and gulping some down before his tongue could register the filth's taste. "Always takes me by surprise." It didn't, but he knew teasing Marco before he was fully awake would result in a confused, a teary angry pout, and a silent treatment- not what he himself wanted with his own hangover to deal with.

"I lost, didn't I?" Jean looked down at Marco but Marco looked away, pale as a sheet and cold sweat already beginning to form on his forehead and neck. He was terrified. It served him right- he did come up with the idea. He should just man up and go out there- take the punishment he gave himself.

"Nah. Barkeep said we passed out at the same time. Strangest thing he'd seen all night apparently," Jean lied, popping his knuckles carelessly and staring down at his pale hands. That stupidly innocent face, Jean cursed as Marco fell back onto the floor giggling with relief. He'd never be able to let those freckles to be hidden by black bruises even if Marco himself had started the fight.

"So now what?" Marco sighed, sitting back up and patting the mess of blankets to try to find his scarf.

Jean handed him the blue wrap. “Those Wagners have a whole lot of carrots,” he murmured, sipping some more aleroot, wincing at the taste. “And there’s only three of them. There’s bound to be waste. It’d be a crying shame for such good carrots to be tossed into the pigpens.”

He gulped, twisting the edges of the blanket with his tan hands and looked fixedly at his lap. “I’d rather get some mushrooms.”

Jean smirked before he stood up, grabbing the two empty cups and walks away with Marco tagging along as usual. Once in the kitchen the cup were tossed unceremoniously across the room and into the sink. “I know where the best mushrooms are. Stumbled across them a couple weeks ago and never got around to showing you yet.” He turned around and sized Marco up, taking in the older hobbit's broad shoulders and uncertain shifting. “You ready?”

“Why do I have the feeling this isn’t going to be an easy pick and grab?” he sighed, heading towards the door. Grabbing both his and Jean’s coat off the hangers on the wall, Marco prepared himself for the worst, tossing Jean his coat.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Jean assured him, catching the garment one handed. “We just have to run fast.”

“Jean!” Marco protested as Jean bolted out the door, throwing on his coat half hazardly. “Jean, wait up!”

He pretended not to hear him, picking up the pace and tearing down the dirt streets. The dirt paths felt good on his bare feet and this time the ground didn't fight him. Instead it sprung up to meet him and pushed him off again until he was flying down street after street and barely touching the ground at all. A little one ran out into the road and into his way, but Jean didn't even slow down. Vaulting over the child, he laughed maniacally as the child's mother cursed him loudly. He could hear Marco apologizing profusely behind him then squeak as the lady's shoe hit it's mark. One more turn and they'd be to the field they'd have to cross to get to the mushrooms. Jean grinned to himself pleased with both his speed and his cleverness. Marco was not going to be happy.

After a couple long seconds, Jean realized the footsteps behind him had stopped, slowed down, then turned around with an exasperated look on his face. “Oh come on, you want those mushrooms, don’t you?”

Marco pointed to the rows on row of every plant imaginable, finger shaking wildly. “That’s the Wagner field.”

Jean turned and stared at the extensive farm, placing one hand on his hip and one hand on his chin as if he was thinking really hard. “I guess it is. Brilliant observation. Just so happens we have to go across the carrot portion to get to the mushrooms.” A nasty grin stretched his features into something Jean’s mom called the ‘trouble smile"- a twisted smirk that showed up right before he was doing something incredibly stupid.

“Isn’t there another way?” Marco squeaked, fingers tying knots in his scarf. “Couldn’t we just go along the road or something-?”

Jean grabbed his arm, jerking him forward and over the front fence of the Wagner farm. “Don’t you trust me, Marco?” he asked, darting across turnip heads. “After all, where did you think those mushrooms I gave you last week were from? The Wagners only grow the best food around.”

“We are so dead.”

“Come on, keep a look out,” Jean ordered, kneeling down in the soft black dirt and plunging his fingers deep, tearing up carrots with ease. He began throwing them into a pile which grew steadily higher and higher. “How much do you think you can hold?”

"Marco?"

Jean nearly wet his pants as Thomas suddenly spoke, appearing without the usual cheerful whistling that served as a warning for whenever the blonde hobbit was around. Peering through the bush, Jean saw Thomas standing with buckets hanging off a board that sat on his wide shoulders. His brown eyes eyes were locked on Marco but he looked more confused than suspicious for now. Hopefully the surprise of seeing someone in his property would distract him long enough for Jean to grab the rest of the carrots.

“T-Thomas? H-hey.” Running his hand through his hair, Marco kicked Jean swiftly in the behind. Jean had to bite his tongue to not cry out. Marco was the worst at lying, he'd have to hurry up. He'd stammer and hum, eyes flickering towards the very objects he was trying to lie about or towards Jean, begging for help.

Quickly pushing the dirt back into their holes, Jean scrambled around, shoving the carrots into his arms as fast as he could. The carrots kept rolling around, falling out of his arms as he bent down to shove more into his arms. It seemed as though the carrots didn't want to be stolen and were taunting him personally.

“Where’s Jean?”

“W-what?” Marco chuckled nervously, gesturing behind his back for Jean to get moving again. “Why would you think he’s here?”

“You two are always together. Where one of you are, the other is as well.” He set down his buckets carefully, keeping eye contact with him. “Why are you here, Marco?”

Jean pouted, glaring at the corn field behind him as if the corn could help him. He stopped, blinked, then glanced back at Thomas, mind whizzing around at top speed not just because his heart was racing with the knowledge that he might be caught this time. Thomas suspected them already. They'd have to run soon. He'd set down his buckets so he'd be more attentive and faster without the added weight.

They'd have to risk it.

“Run!” Jean shouted, shoving an armful of carrots and a few cabbages into Marco's arms before turning tail and bolting into the tall corn stalks behind him.

Thomas didn't follow for a second, too startled to react. But after a minute, he seemed to wake up, anger twisting his face. "Hey!" Get back here!" Corn snapped as he chased after the duo, barreling through his crop carelessly.

“Turn, turn!” Jean shouted, waving his arm to signal to Marco. He stumbled, sliding across the hard ground and sending up clouds of dust into the air giving Marco time to pass him leaving Jean closer to the blonde farmer's wrath.

Marco turned sharply to the right, raising his arms in front of him and using the vegetables as a sort of shield from the sharp leaves, bending the shoots back so they smacked Jean. Leaping over piles of discarded plants, he pounded through the field with Jean hot on his tail and Thomas right behind him. It was like a strange game of follow the leader where the person at the end had a knife and the ones in front were doomed.

Despite his heart pounding in his throat, the constant reminder Thomas was right behind him, and his ragged breathing, Jean loved the running almost more than the quiet time afterwards when he could sit down and enjoy whatever it was he'd taken. It was when he was running he felt alive- heart pumping, mind finally clear, and the knowledge he might not live if his mother found out what he'd been up too.

“I think we lost him,” Jean panted, catching up to Marco’s neck-breaking pace after a horrifically long burst of speed. “I think we’re safe- umph!” Tripping over something, Jean fell to the ground landing on top of something lumpy and hard, vegetables flying everywhere.

"Eren!" Marco exclaimed loudly while straddling a smaller hobbit who wore a sour expression, green eyes narrow with annoyance at the loud and sudden tackle. "Jean, its Eren Jaeger."

A blonde scurried over and tapped Marco's shoulder politely. "Excuse me, could you kindly get off him?" Marco jumped to his feet apologizing quickly but Armin just nodded and offered his hand to Eren, uncharacteristically ignoring him. "I told you something could happen and we aren't even out of the shire yet."

Glancing back at the way they came, Jean bent down and picked up what had been scattered by the impact, dumping them off onto Armin's surprised figure. "Hold these." Relieving Marco of his burden, he piled the rest of the vegetables into Eren's chest. "And these." Grabbing Marco's hand, he scampered off again leaving the goods with Armin. The loss stung but without the load they both could run much faster. And plus, if the evidence was with someone else, he and Marco wouldn't be the only ones with black eyes.

"STOP!" Eren shouted, storming after them with his usual level of subtlety. After catching up to the two thieves, he huffed and glared at Jean. "Are these from Thomas?"

"I dunno why he'd be so upset," he shrugged, barely avoiding tripping on a fallen stalk. "It's just a little bit of carrots."

"And some cabbages and potatoes from last week's hit," Marco reminded him, intentionally smacking him with some corn. "And the mushrooms you took and said you were going to show me."

Jean rolled his eyes, raising his arms to deflect some of the sharp leaves. "Point is, he's overreacting."

Suddenly the ground disappeared from view. Jean skidded to a stop, throwing his arm out to stop Marco. He nodded to the steep drop. "Careful."

Marco danced from one foot to another, glancing to the side. "Should we-"

Just then, Eren with his usual amount of grace, slammed into the pair, sending all three of them tumbling down the cliffside.

Seeing the cliff side whiz past his body, then rolling over the rocks and branches below, Jean bounced and skid in a tangle of limbs and a chorus of grunts. Jean cried out, hearing something snap as he landed on his back. High pitched wailing made him look up to see Marco rolling down the hill, ending up on top of Jean.

"Get off, I think I broke something." Jean gasped, pushing the worried Marco off his chest. A sudden sharp pain in his back made him wince, hand snaking underneath him to pull out a broken carrot. "Ow."

"What was that, Kirstein?" Eren hissed, green eyes flashing with rage. "Stealing from Thomas? Have you really stooped that low?"

Jean sighed, standing up and stretching his back. He'd forgotten Eren had a soft spot for Thomas- both of them had lost their mothers around the same time. "It was a short cut, I promise. We were just trying to get here quickly, promise."

"A short cut to what?" Armin asked from a bit further up the hill. Unlike the rest of them, he hadn't fallen but for obvious reasons he still came down to the area the boys had landed.

Marco perked up, spotting what they had been out to get in the first place. "Mushrooms!" Scrambling over to the side of the road, he began picking the topped fungus and popping some in his mouth before Jean could grab some for himself. He bounced, eyes fluttering with pleasure as his chewing slowed. "So good," he mumbled through a full mouth.

"Hey, let me have some," Jean growled, pushing him a bit to get close to the find.

Marco frowned, shouldering the younger hobbit aside. "You got us into trouble again, I think I get to have these."

"I found them!" Jean protested, wrapping his arms around the freckled boy's chest to snatch a few mushrooms. "I deserve to-"

"Get off the road!" Eren bellowed, grabbing Armin and tearing off in the direction of a large tree.

Jean seconds later found himself in the midst of the giant tree's roots, packed shoulder to shoulder in between Eren and Marco, with a shivering Armin on the side completely usure of why or how he got there. Not exactly the way he'd planned the day to go. Marco was still snarfing some mushrooms, shooting warning glances at him to make sure he didn't try to take some. Jean grumbled and began to stand back up but Eren grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down.

"What the hell, Jaeger?" he seethed, shoving Eren furiously but Eren didn't snap back. Jean's eyebrows pulled together as he watched the hot headed boy shrink back against the tree roots, shuddering. Something was wrong- no, very wrong if Eren didn't want to run right into something the Shire forbade.

Hoofbeats on the road made the hairs on the back of Jean's neck stand up on edge. The only horse that would be so close to Hobbiton would be Hange but she was already in town. Dwarves weren't due for trade for months yet. No one should be on  the road but yet there were.

The horse snorted, stomping to a stop right above their heads. Jean glanced at Marco. His freckles were standing out on his paling face his mouth hanging open as one hand hovered with a half eaten mushroom still clasped tightly in his thick fingers. Reaching out, Jean grabbed the older hobbit's hand, squeezing it gently. Marco smiled briefly but Jean knew it was forced. He was terrified. They were both terrified. Getting caught by Thomas and dealing with Jean's mother was one thing, but a stranger to the Shire was another thing entirely.

Skittering sounds made Jean look up at the dirt overhang. Worms, beetles, ants, spiders were all scurrying down the roots and falling onto the hobbits, crawling on their arms, necks, down their clothes, and in their hair. Jean's eyes widened, hands brushing his hair and shuddering as the bugs flew off in a panic. Marco bit down a whimper, slapping at his clothes quietly and glancing up at the whinnying horse above. If the rider heard them, who knew what would happen, but the bugs were relentless, their cold and ticklish feet trailing quickly across their skin.

Hands appeared on the roots above- large, armored hands, thick and strong. They were hands of someone much bigger than the biggest hobbit, the tallest half-ling, and even bigger than Hange's thin, calloused hands. The owner of the hands sniffed loudly, shadow looming over the edge. He was going to come down and find them, Jean realized. The rider was looking for something, something someone sitting under the tree had.

Jean glanced at the rest of the hobbits pressed up against the back of the hole. The rider couldn't be looking for himself or Marco, they'd been trouble but not so bad that someone would search for them. Armin was just a quiet gardener, no one would hunt him for that.

Eren.

Jean stared at Eren who was grabbing something that hung around his neck as if his life depended on it. Had he stolen something from the rider? That wasn't like Eren. He was more likely to say something to anger the rider or charge into a fight without thinking first. Stealing was more of Jean's thing. Eren liked to hit things, screaming with anger until whatever he was up against was gone- but him quietly hiding? Jean didn't like it.

Quickly, Jean bent over and grabbed a rock from under a small pile of leaves. Testing its weight, he nodded then tossed it to the side. It crashed around and the hands disappeared. The horse soon whinnied and thundered away in the direction of the rock. Jean grabbed Marco's hand once again and ran in the opposite direction the rider headed. Eren, and Armin followed in suite, stumbling along side them as they crashed through the forest.

When he decided they had run far enough, Jean whirled around and slammed Eren up against a tree. "What the hell was that?" he snarled, spit flying into Eren's face. "What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Eren snapped, shoving him back, green eyes bright with anger looking more and more alive, more and more like himself. "I didn't do anything."

A hand was placed on Jean's shoulder but he ignored it. "That rider was looking for something or someone, wasn't he? He was looking for..." Eren's hand grabbed the thing around his neck once more, confirming Jean's suspicions. "You took something, didn't you?"

Eren bristled, taking a step forward. "I took something? I took something? You're the one who steals from people, Kirstein. You were stealing from Thomas when we ran into each other!"

Marco yanked on Jean's arm, forcing him to look at his freckled companion. "Listen to me!" he cried out, pointing to a small rise in the greens off to their left. Jean frowned, realizing Marco had been trying to get his attention for some time now. "I said I thought I heard hoofbeats."

Jean dropped to the forest floor, pulling Marco down alongside him as he fell. Marco had been right, there definitely was a horse coming their way. Jean glanced at the others who had also dropped down on their stomachs, and started crawling forward towards the sound of the oncoming rider.

Too close, the sound was too close.

Jean swallowed back his fear, stealing a look back at Marco. He nodded, smiling gently making Jean flush and turn back with renewed confidence. It was just one look, that's it. Nothing to worry about.

The horse stopped on top the hill and Jean froze. The rider's face was covered by plating that ran down his arms and back under a deep red cloak. Bright yellow eyes that seemed to glow, illuminating a golden mist, stared out from under the armor, searching the trees with an intense stare that sent shivers down Jean's spine. Blonde, almost white hair topped the rider's head that shifted as if there was a breeze. The rider's eyes narrowed and it let out a horrific scream of frustration before turning the horse to the side and galloping off.

Rushing back to Marco, Jean scanned Eren with an unhappy frown. "You need to get out of here, don't you?" He nodded and Jean sighed, running a hand through the fluffy half of his hair. "I can get you to the ferry but you'd better explain to me what's going on."

Marco screamed, grabbing Jean and barreling away from the rider who had appeared right behind the group. "Run!"

Once again, Jean's heart was pounding in his throat and he was running for his life. Leading the company through the trees, he slipped and slid across leaves until the the trees thinned out to show the band a fenced river with a port. "Hurry!" Jean shouted, bending down and lacing his fingers together to launch Marco then Armin over the fence but Eren had fallen behind. "Come on, Eren!"

Out crashed the rider, yellow eyes glowing intensely. Eren turned his head then tripped over his feet, crying out as he hit the ground. Scrambling back up onto his feet, he bolted forward with one fist clinging onto the thing on his neck. "No!" he bellowed, eyes looking past Jean.

Jean turned to see the ferry starting to drift on the river. Marco had gotten Armin onto the raft safely but between the river and the rider, there was no other choice but to untie the anchor. Jean whipped around, grabbed Eren's hand, and tore down the grassy field, leaping over the fence with relative ease.

"Come on!" Marco shouted, extending his hand and leaning over the edge of the boat. Armin squeaked, running to the other side of the raft to counterbalance the movement.

"Hurry!" Armin screamed, eyes wide under his coconut shaped hair.

Eren and Jean leaped in unison, slamming onto the deck together. They scrambled to their feet, grabbing long poles and sinking them into the water, pushing with all their might. Jean stared at the oncoming horse which didn't seem to be slowing down, hooves clattering on the wooden dock. "Push morons!" he commanded, throwing himself into the task of getting away with more fervor. "Push!"

At the last possible moment, the rider pulled on the reins causing the horse to rear back on its hind legs. Yellow eyes glared at the band of hobbits as the rider screeched furiously. The horse whipped around then thundered down a small path twisting down the river.

Eren swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. "How far to the next crossing?"

"Twenty miles." It would take the rider some time to go around to the next ferry and cross giving Eren and Armin a lead. Jean's eyes followed the rider as another rider seemed to melt out of the darkness and join the armored rider. This rider was bigger but Jean couldn't get more than that before the road bent into the trees.

Eren was up to something if not one but two full-sized riders were after him but Jean was too tired and too focused on keeping the raft moving to muster the energy to yell at his kinsman. He made a mental note to do so in the future. And wherever they ended up, Eren was buying him and Marco each a large cask of brandy as well as pay for their rooms. As far as Jean was concerned, he'd had cost him both the mushrooms Jean had promised to Marco and ten years off his lifespan so paying for drinks and a bed was implied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character view points will flip from Jean to Marco and back so just heads up about that. :)
> 
> CHARACTER LIST SO FAR!!!  
> Jean- Merry/Pippin  
> Marco- Merry/Pippin  
> Eren- Frodo  
> Armin- Sam  
> Hange- Gandalf
> 
> More characters to come the more I think about this whole story. Later I might actually get around to expanding to the entire story not just Merry and Pippin's side, but who knows?
> 
> Special thanks to Briar Elwood for encouraging me to write and to throw this out here. Thanks for reading through this, giving me tips, and smacking me upside the head from many states away when my grammar was crap.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco goes to a "big people's" bar and finds he likes the sizing. The group meets new 'friends' and has a run in with a short stranger who's skilling with a sword and doesn't seem to like them. Also, Jean messes up.
> 
> (Marco's point of view)

Marco never minded the rain, but what was falling from the black clouds so heavy with rain he could have stretched up his hand and touched the dark mists if he wasn’t a halfling, wasn’t normal rain. It was like he was wading through water with Jean on his back, heavy and sluggish and slow. The ground soon became nothing more than a trap to suck on down into the depths of the road, never to be seen again. He would then slowly thrash until too tired to struggle, dying there in the street. Mud grabbed at his legs, weighing him down until giving up seemed like the best option, starting the slow descent towards black nothingness.

Someone fell face first into the ground dragging Marco out of his blurry haze. He stopped and looked down at the sinking figure, slowly realizing it was Jean. Jean hated rain, always had. When they were little he’d always hide in the corners, shaking and shuddering as thunder rolled overhead. Jean still flinched whenever thunder cracked but his whimpers had turned to snarls if and when he had to go out in the rain. Marco bent down to help his friend up, but his hand was smacked away as Jean flailed around, struggling in vain to free himself from the iron grip of the earth.

“Come on,” Eren hissed impatiently, yanking Jean up to his feet roughly.

Before Jean could retaliate however, Marco wrapped his arm around Jean’s, holding the younger hobbit back. Without Marco stopping him, he'd probably try to start one of their fist fights that always turned out bloody, either that or Jean would fall into the mud so hard no one would be able to get him upright again. Jean blinked in surprise, golden eyes finding Marco’s brown, mouth parting slightly in a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“It’s not worth it,” he murmured, pulling the baffled boy alongside him. Jean kept stumbling, growling every time his feet slid a direction he hadn’t intended but everytime Marco caught him. “Just keep moving,” he’d remind him. “We’re almost there, right?”

Jean nodded, gripping Marco’s arm tightly. “Just one more corner,” he muttering adding a few choice words under his breath afterwards. Straightening up once more, he turned to Eren and spoke with a slight hiss in his voice. “I can get you to The Sina, but then Marco and I are going home.”

“Fine with me,” Eren grunted, shivering under his pulled up dark hood. “I just want to get out of this rain.”

After sludging for what felt like miles, the road finally turned displaying a large gated city, the wooden walls mimicking the stone walls that separated the shire from Elvish territory, elvish territory from Man’s domain, and the walls that closed off the darkland from the rest of the world. The tall wood disappeared into the low clouds, seeming shorter than a tall man but taller than two hobbits standing on each other’s shoulders. Marco dragged Jean up to the wall so that the smaller hobbit could pound his fist against the wood, a scowl already twisting Jean's face into something nasty, lips curling and eyes growing sharp enough to cut through solid stone.

“I hear ya, I hear ya!” shouted a voice from inside the gate. Seconds later, a slot opened about four feet above their heads, someone grumbled, then another one face height opened to show a very irritated, wrinkled, face almost indistinguishable from the thick layer of grime ground into the owner’s skin. “What do ya want?”

“We’re here for a drink, what do you think we’re here for?” Jean hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. The two surly men glared at each other for a second or two making the other three hobbits shuffle awkwardly. The gatekeeper’s lip curled then he pulled back, slamming the window shut with a dull thud.

Eren shoved Jean, sending him flying backwards into the mud with a loud squelch, not caring as the dual toned hobbit began sinking, arms already getting stuck. “You idiot! Now we can’t get in-”

The sound of locks being undone and latches being slid open stopped Eren mid sentence. The gatekeeper opened the door, staring down at the hobbits with a twitching eye that might’ve been a tick but was probably a twitch of amusement than anything else. “Now are ya going to sit there in the rain or are you going to get in?”

Jean fumbled around for a bit before standing up and shaking the bigger man’s hand, smearing the mud on their hands. “I owe you one now, I guess.”

The gatekeeper shrugged, staring off in the darkness past the incomers not even wiping the mud off his calloused hand. “I’m not going to say no to that but yu’d better be careful Jeanny-boy, there’s talk of strange folk in these parts. And make sure yur friends behave themselves. Even letting ya in after last time might be a bit of a stretch.”

At that comment, Jean ducked his head and grabbed Marco’s arm, pulling him along into the town on a thankfully stone paved road. “Don’t know what he’s talking about,” he grumbled, pulling up his hood as if to block his face. “Keep an eye out,” he called to Armin who was towing a rather quiet Eren. “Big people don’t stop for the likes of us.”

As if to prove his point, a man pushing a wagon whizzed past slammed past, nearly running over Marco’s foot. Marco squeaked, jumping back into Armin. He glanced back at Jean who wasn’t fazed in the slightest. “When have you been here?”

A small flush darkened Jean’s pale features slightly as he began popping his knuckles. “Just now and then, don’t worry about it.” Marco narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything further. Jean was hiding something from him- something they just didn’t do to each other. After all, they’d promised no secrets.

“Is this it?” Armin asked, pointing to a run down inn with loud laughter spilling out into the street through the worn wood. Large flats of wood covered the walls so there was more patches than original wood, golden light spilling out of cracks and holes that had not yet been patched up but had been forgotten about. A large sign hung outside in the need of new paint read ‘The Maria’ giving the swaying shack a name.

“It’s shit,” Eren stated, hand finding that thing he kept grabbing around his neck. He sighed but opened the door anyway, leading the way into the tavern where everything was at least twice their size.

The counter for checking in was so tall, Eren had to hop a couple of times before he gave up trying to reach the bell. Besides Marco, Jean sniggered and pointed to a shorter desk off to the right. Marco couldn’t help but giggle as Eren’s face turned an alarming shade of pink. He stomped over to the new desk, slamming his hand on that bell and immediately a large, plump man ambled over with a cheery grin on his wide face.

“What can I do for you?” he boomed, brown eyes sparkling. He was taller than Marco had expected and wore a thin mustache that hugged his upper lip. His blond hair was short and unevenly cut as if he himself had cut it with a dull knife. Long lines were etched into his face from both old age and the stress of keeping a bar and inn.  “We got nice, cozy hobbit sized rooms available- only inn around to do so, I’m proud to admit.” His eyes scanned the group and Marco noticed Jean turn his head slightly, hiding behind Marco. The innkeeper seemed to be satisfied with something, nodding to himself and turning his attention back to Eren.

“We’re friends of Hange the Grey, can you tell her we’re here?”

The old innkeeper frowned forming new lines across his wrinkled face. “Hange? Crazy greying woman with the glasses?” Eren nodded. “Haven’t seen her since she set the stables on fire. Said it was an accident but I could’ve sworn there was something in there with her and that was about six months ago.”

Slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand, Eren shook his head, turning to face the group of hobbits. “Of course she’d set the stable on fire. I guess we’ll have to wait till she gets here and apologises.”

Marco pointed down the hall towards the sound of rambunctious laughter, tongue slipping out to wet his lips before he could stop it. “How about we go in there and get a bite to eat? Sounds like fun. Jean, is this place any- where did he go?” Marco turned around in a circle but there was an alarming lack of the shaggy undercut Jean insisted to keep.

Armin frowned while Eren growled, stomping into the tavern half of the inn. “Where the hell did he disappear to? I’m not his babysitter and yet...” The rest of his rant Marco conveniently tuned out.

Jean and Eren had never really gotten along. Both were headstrong, stubborn, and would rather fix things with their fists instead of words like other hobbits. They were as wild as the angriest drunk when they were sober and could pick a fight with a stick as they had actually done more than once. That had been a hard one to explain.

Marco sighed then realized Armin had done the same thing. Marco smiled and Armin returned the gesture, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, apparently ignoring Eren as well. It was a good thing Eren had Armin for wherever they were going, Eren would need someone to talk their way out of his messes and think.

The hobbits sat down at a table, feet swinging in the air and table sitting chest height. Apparently it was only beds they had hobbit sized, Marco noted as a waitress handed him a mug that was almost too big for his hands to hold. The cold metal slid in his hands, so cold it almost hurt his hands. Gripping the mug in both hands, he gingerly took a sip and sighed as the familiar burn tickled his throat.

Jean plopped himself next to him, cheeks rosy red already holding a glass about the size of his head with both hands. “Good news, they don’t know how much hobbits can drink here. Yet.” He grinned cheekily, tipping the glass back, ale dripping down the sides of his mouth as he drank messily.

Marco blinked, staring at the larger cup greedily. It was larger than any cup he’d ever seen, larger than the one currently slipping in his hands. “What’s that?”

Jean chuckled darkly, shooting a glance at Armin who shook his head sternly. He ignored him and held up his cup, arm shaking slightly with the weight of it. “This, Marco, is a pint!”

He felt his jaw drop, eyes widening as Jean took another long swig. The ale didn’t seem to be running out at all even though rivers were surging past Jean’s lips and spilling into his lap. Marco could drink forever with a pint! “It comes in pints?” he squeaked, excitement building up in his stomach. Standing up quickly, he stumbled not realizing how much he’d already had. “I’m gonna go get one.”

Jean slammed down his mug, empty, and clumsily ran after him, bumping into tables and people alike. “I’m gonna get another one, too.”

“You’ve already had enough!” Armin moaned, dropping his head to the table.

Marco hopped up on a barstool while Jean more of threw himself at the chair, scrambling awkwardly in his buzzed state. “Two pints, please,” he giggled holding up two fingers. The bartender nodded and Marco swiveled around to face Jean, kicking his legs in the air in excitement. “I’ve never been to a big people’s bar before!”

He laughed, grabbing his pint as the they slid down the counter. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Marco frowned, remembering something. “You’ve been here before.” Jean stopped, glanced at him, then took a deeper drink. “Without me.”

Before Jean could defend himself with some lame excuse, a large, burly man leaned up against the counter, dark eyes sizing up the two halfling and making Marco shiver. “What are you, shorty?” he asked bluntly, not bothering to strike up conversation or at least ask politely.

Hand shaking, Marco took a long draft of ale, swallowing hard trying to ignore the knot in the pit of his stomach. “I’m a hobbit.” There was something about the big man that scared him. He seemed calm and very drunk, cocky and a bit angry. Marco was just a little nobody, he’d be overpowered in seconds.

The man nodded, eyes locked on Marco’s bare feet that were hooked around the railing of his chair. “Never heard of a hobbit but then again I’m not from around here.” More men gathered around them and Marco flinched as if someone pinched him- more intimidating and dark men. Something was wrong, why were they here? The gatekeeper had warned them about strangers, were these men the ones he had been talking about? “Do know a Jaeger by any chance?”

Jean scoffed, downing the rest of his mug, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve which was still covered in mud. His face twisted in disgust as he spat out the offending slime. “What do you want with Jaeger? He’s nothing but a no good, suicidal fool if you ask me. Won’t tell me about his necklace. Rude.” He lifted his mug only to realize it was empty, and glared at nothing in particular.

The hair on the back of Marco’s neck prickled as one of the huge men leaned forward, flashing crooked yellow teeth. A bright flash brought his eyes down to the larger man’s belt- a knife. Setting his drink down, Marco tapped Jean’s knee and tried to not quiver. These men were bad news but Jean was too drunk to realize it.

“Do you know where he might be?”

To Marco’s horror, Jean turned around and pointed straight as his friend who was staring at him, eyes wide with shock. “That’s him, the bastard.”

“Why you-!” Eren jerked forward, fist flying to his neck and yanking out the necklace. Marco’s eyes followed seeing a bronze key hanging on a chain that he’d never seen before. The making was strange, polished and round with a square at the top- clearly not a hobbit hole key. Eren stumbled forward, tripping over the leg of a passed out drunk, and slammed down on the ground. For a second, Marco could see a splatter of red- he must’ve landed on his nose but Eren disappeared.

Hot smoke filled the room, burning his skin and making his nose and eyes water even through Marco had thrown up his arms to protect his face. A deep roar shook the tavern, so loud he couldn’t think. The sound was a furious hurt as if an angry animal was being forced into a corner before being slaughtered, punctuated with a sudden silence.

Coughing, Marco wiped his eyes as the smoke cleared, finding his eyes hadn’t deceived him and Eren was in fact gone. He looked around the tavern, first at the large men then sweeping around the room. A cape or cloak swished up the stairs but it was the glint of a golden key that caught Marco’s attention.

“Marco!” Armin hissed, eyes wide with worry as he grabbed Marco’s sleeve urgently. “Where’s Eren?”

Without replying, Marco stood up, dragging Jean by his collar up the stairs. He picked up a candlestick off a table in the hall, holding it in his fists. Whoever had dragged Eren up the stairs was big and probably stronger than Marco, Armin, and a drunk Jean but they had to try to get their friend back. And fix whatever Jean had done.

“Jean,” Marco whispered fiercely, fingers squeezing the skinny hobbit’s shoulder. “I need you to get angry. A man took Eren.”

His face twisted, gold eyes darkening to an almost black, and nodded at a door. “There?” Marco nodded and Jean stormed over, nearly tearing the wooden door off its hinges. “No one beats Eren but me!” he roared, raising his fists.

Marco surged after him, Armin on his heels but stopped suddenly so he wouldn’t run into Jean. A sword was held steadily almost touching Jean’s nose. Marco’s eyes slowly followed the sharp line until he saw the owner.

He was not as tall as Marco had thought, but he was still taller than Marco by at least six inches- incredibly short for a man but too tall for to be a hobbit. He was covered in a deep green cloak, but his hood was down over his face. Narrow, cold, piercing eyes shown through the shadow that seemed to be able see right through Marco. His pale skin looked milky in the candlelight, smooth and impressively clean standing out against literally everything in The Maria. There didn’t seem to be a spot of dirt on the man to a point he seemed more like a statue than real.

The man sheathed his sword, eyeing Jean with a look of disgust. “Put your fists away, you’ll more likely injure yourself rather than me.” He turned to Eren leaving Jean sputtering and growled darkly. “You can’t wait for Hange, Eren. They’re coming.”

“Who?” Armin piped up, surprising Marco. He’d forgotten the blonde was with them. “Who’s coming?” Armin repeated when the dark man didn’t answer, leaving the room in silence.

As the hobbits followed the man down the hall and out the back door of the tavern, slipping and sliding in the mud while the still unnamed man seemed to barely touch ground as he glided across the street and into another inn across the way.

“Get inside, and quick,” the cloaked man hissed, black eyes flashing thought the dark of the night. He shut the door after them and pushed through to the desk, dumping a small, heavy bag onto the wood. The innkeeper turned around, bag in hand, ignoring the small group as they stole up the stairs into a room. After locking the door, the man turned to the hobbits with an almost bored expression. “Get in bed and try to sleep. We’ll move in the morning.”

Somehow, Armin, Eren, and Jean began stripping themselves of their wet clothes without question. Marco bit his lip and raised his hand like a child, earning himself a raised eyebrow from the mysterious and most likely dangerous man. “How can we trust you? I mean we’ve only just met you and we don’t even know your name.”

For a second, Marco thought he saw a ghost of a smile on the man’s lips before it disappeared back into that stern, black look. “Think of me as you will but you will need your rest.” He stared at each hobbit in turn before tossing something at Eren who barely caught it before it hit the ground. “Do not open this door for anyone but me. I’ll knock four times, wait, and then two times. And the name’s Levi.” The door silently shut and he was gone before anyone could say a word.

Levi didn’t come back until Eren and Jean were dead asleep, limbs spread across the large bed the hobbits would all share. Armin sat on the edge on the mattress holding the black key Levi had trusted to Eren and a small pocket sized book which he was reading until there were the four knocks, a pause, and then two more. He unlocked the door and opened it just enough for Levi to slip in, unfazed that Eren wasn’t the one to let him in.

“Brat,” Levi muttered, glaring at the drooling hobbit, sitting in a chair by the window. “Can’t stay awake for five minutes.”

Marco shifted as Armin blew out the candle and climbed under the covers on the opposite side of the two sleeping boys. The name Levi meant nothing to him- it could be a last name or first name or even be a fake name, belonging to no one. A sword hung on his hip and a knife sat under some straps on his thigh and he clearly knew how to use them well- holding the sword steadily at Jean’s nose, not moving in the slightest. Marco didn’t trust him but knew he couldn’t do anything against Levi. Those men at the bar were just boys trying to seem brave and tough compared to the cold stillness that sat silently, watching them sleep from that chair.

A shriek filled the air making all four hobbit start in fright, Armin sitting straight up, Marco flinching so bad he heard something in his neck pop. Eren flailed around for a second while Jean pulled the covers over his head, shivering as the chilling scream was echoed by another voice. It was as if someone was scraping bent pieces of metal together, high pitched and bone grating.

Armin stood up, quietly standing next to Levi’s chair and watched through the window at The Maria. Lights flickered in an upstairs room while black horses stomped outside in the streets, pawing at the ground with an almost frustration.

“What are they?” Armin asked quietly, sound barely hanging over the terrible screeching across the way.

His lips tightened but he answered in a tight voice, not angry but not calm either. “They were once great warriors. They found a way to be stronger, faster, larger than any enemy and once they had it, they were blinded by their power, one by one falling into darkness. They are now slaves to a dark power whose name is lost. They are the Abnormals. Titans. Neither man nor titan, but both. They’re searching for the key to the dark power’s tomb, desperately trying to bring the darkness back. And they’ve found it’s trail.” Levi’s eyes locked on Eren’s hand tightly clenching around the bright key that hung around his neck.

“They will never stop hunting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheh. "Small group". Get it? Hobbits and Levi? I crack myself up.
> 
> Thanks for reading, if you have any suggestions for extra scenes not in the movie, feel free to message me.
> 
> CHARACTER SO FAR!!  
> Jean- Merry/Pippin  
> Marco- Merry/Pippin  
> Eren- Frodo  
> Armin- Sam  
> Levi- Aragon  
> Bertolt- Nazgul/Ringwraith  
> Reiner- Nazgul/ Ringwraith


End file.
